


Threadbare

by I_am_Best



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Death, Death Fetish, Gen, M/M, death and more death, skeleton dance - Freeform, the skeleton dance has intensified
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_Best/pseuds/I_am_Best
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are plenty of things Lord Hater never <i>really</i> thought he'd do -- hug kittens, take up knitting, be nice to Peepers.</p><p>Kill Wander.</p><p>When he sees that he has in multiple universes, it's enough to swear off the idea for at least a day, maybe two. Maybe forever. When Wander sees that Hater has.... he comes to some very different conclusions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Surprise, sir!" Peepers said as he pulled the blindfold from Lord Hater's eyes.

Hater had been set before a television screen in one of the smaller conference rooms. He had those all over the ship, and this one wasn't even half as big as the one in his own room. Lame. He reached for the junk food that had been set on the side table and shoved some chips into his mouth.

"It's a TV."

"I know." Peepers hopped from the arm of the chair to the floor. "But let me show you what's on it!" With a flourish, he produced a remote and the screen glowed to life. A collection of files with jumbled names and numbers were already pulled up. They had little icons of reds and orange and blacks, but, without context, they were just hard-to-see screengrabs.

"The Watchdogs and I noticed you were feeling a little down lately because we lost a few more places on the Villain Leaderboard, so the boys in the lab came up with a fun little gift for you!"

"Eh."

Peepers plowed on, unperturbed by Hater's apathy. "They wrote up an algorithm to scan all the access points for those interdimensional doors and found ones where Wander's signature --"

Lord Hater reared back in his seat, gloved hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Ew, gross! Why would I want more Wanders?"

"Let me finish, sir. Where Wander's signature is _missing_. No Wander. At least not now."

Hater's lightning bold antennae perked up at that, and a small smile dared creep its way onto his mouth. "No Wander? So, like, universes where Wander doesn't exist? And these are...?" he asked, settling in and paying more attention now than he'd managed in the last few days.

"Doesn't exist anymore," Peepers corrected. "We set the program to compile incidents where his timeline stopped and analyze why, and a lot were just freak accidents, or bad timing and wrong places, but -- and might I say I am very proud -- quite a few end with _you_." Peepers paused to collect himself, then added pointedly, "I know you have it in you to just finish this whole thing you have with him, sir, so we can wash our hands of the entire affair. You just need some motivation."

Hater snatched the remote from Peeper's hand and began clicking through the listed files, far more interested now despite the less than impressive screen size. "So these are like, how it went down?"

"Mmhm. All of these are how you finally destroyed that weirdo." Peepers's voice was breathless with excitement, and Hater glanced at him. He was looking at him with that wet, starstruck look he sometimes got, as though Hater could do no wrong. Hater coughed awkwardly. It'd be nicer if it was a girl looking at him like that. Preferably one with more than an eyeball for a head.

"Uh. Yeah. So let's see." Lord Hater scrolled through a few more and picked a shorter one. "Oh, this'll be good. Though I bet when I do it, it's gonna be way better than what these dorks came up with," he quickly amended.

"They are you, sir."

"But I'm the best me."

Peepers sighed, adulation fading quickly with the reminder that Lord Hater was still himself. "Of course."

Hater hit play.

The video took a moment to load, then they were shown the main conference hall of the Skullship. It was packed with Watchdogs, and on the stage stood Lord Hater and Wander.

Instead of his usual, obnoxious bubbliness, the little orange fuzzball looked confused. There weren't any visible injuries on him, and he wasn't bound in any way, but Wander seemed uncomfortable with whatever was going on. His hand ran up and down his other arm nervously, causing the fur to stick out at all different angles.

Lord Hater turned up the volume.

"After months of this little menace... menacing us," his counterpart was saying, "We finally have Wander at our mercy!"

Wander mustered a small smile and wave for the audience before his attention was arrested by Lord Hater, who moved in closer. He looked up at him, then turned to face Hater properly.

"Y'know, Hatey, I think I'm gonna have to bow outta whatever this is, though I'm sure it was gonna be real fun. Sylvia clearly ain't here, and I oughta go find her, make sure she's fine." He took a step back from the looming figure, and Hater -- the real and proper and best one -- had to grin at that. Yes, he liked that rare look of trepidation wriggling its way onto Wander's face. It was like seeing a unicorn, which made sense because Wander was about a stupid and girly as a unicorn himself.

The Hater in the video grabbed Wander's arm and undid the distance gained with a sharp tug. "She's fine," he said in a way that suggested Sylvia, wherever she was, was adamantly not fine. "I'll take you to her when we're done here."

Wander -- stupid, trusting Wander -- relaxed a little at that. "Oh, okay!" he chirped. "Will it take long?"

"Shouldn't."

The thing Hater noticed, though, as he looked around the scene, was that there wasn't actually anything to destroy Wander with. Did Peepers stupid algorithm-y thing mess up? Because Hater-in-the-video was now cupping Wander's face in his hands with Wander's own smaller ones laid over them, and the little weirdo had that moony look in his eyes that always made Hater uncomfortable in ways he didn't quite understand. It wasn't quite like the way Peepers looked at him, but in that same vein.

Their faces were getting far, far too close to each other, and the camera was zooming in closer. Someone there was definitely recording, which meant this must be the Skullship's live feed to the galaxy.

Hater began frantically searching for the remote before they started making out or something disgusting like that. On intergalactic television, at that!

"Goodbye, Wander."

Hater froze. Wander froze.

Wander barely got a gasp of pain out before his body spasmed. Tears sprung up in his eyes as he struggled against the suddenly crushing grip on his face, curls of rubber drifting to the floor where unexpected, ineffectual, and so, _so_ tiny claws dug into Hater's gloves. Green lighting danced along his fur as his fingers tightened on Hater's wrists, then after dragging seconds dropped away. His eyes rolled back into his head, mouth slackened, and that was it.

Aside from the occasional jerk and twitch of residual energy, Lord Hater had a limp, blank-eyed little body in his hands. There was just the barest wisp of smoke, of singed fur and flesh, to suggest what Hater had done.

He shifted to just one hand around Wander's neck, and Wander's head lolled sickeningly as he was lifted up for display. His hat fell to the ground and lay there, sort of crumpled in on itself.

Hater pointed at the camera, causing both Hater and Peepers to jump as his triumphant voice boomed out, "Take note, universe! THIS is what happens to those who oppose the Hater empire!"

Hater sat back in his chair, eyes wide. Peepers -- the one on screen, climbed up onto the stage and began chanting. Soon the other Watchdogs picked it up too, though it took a few moments to really build momentum. The camera zoomed back out to sweep the entire conference room.

"Hate's great! Best villain!"

At each fist pump from Lord Hater, Wander's body swayed. It -- Wander -- had none of his natural springiness left, and the resulting flopping was uncanny. Hater couldn't hear what on-screen-Peepers was telling his Lord Hater over the chanting.

As they watched in silence, the video ended and froze on the image of Hater's victory. Hater looked at Peepers. The commander had a bit of a green tinge to his sclera, and his eye was riveted to Hater and Wander onstage.

"Peepers!"

"S-sir?" Peepers jerked like he'd been shock-- electrocu-- startled.

"Get out! I. I need a moment."

"Of course, sir!" He didn't need any further excuse to get away from the video and scrambled away.

Just as the door closed, Hater yelled, "And don't read too much into this!"

Now alone, Hater turned his attention back to the image frozen on the screen, dimmed behind the replay circle. Wander's body held up like that cheap trophy he'd given Hater when they first met. A sea of red, raised fists. So many of those Watchdogs were Wander's friends, here. Yet there, they'd just watched. They cheered Hater on, like Wander was the enemy. Which Wander was, but. He hadn't even had Sylvia with him when he.... went.

Hater swallowed. It had dragged on too long. Wander's face had turned from that familiar half-lidded, adoring gaze to wide-eyed shock, betrayal -- he'd _lingered_. It wasn't like how Hater had always imagined it when he was kept up at night by thoughts of Wander ruining everything. He'd wanted to see him hurt, but it had just been the idea of Wander dying by his hand. Not an actuality.

Hater sat back to look at his own hands, curling and uncurling them. His gloves squeaked quietly with the movement. The replay in his head was even slower, more drawn out, and he could easily imagine Wander in his hands right now, letting him touch him because he trusted him for reasons Grop only knew, letting Hater bury his fingers in the dense fur of his cheeks.

"What's wrong, Hatey?"

Oh shit.

Hater screamed and sprung out of the chair, sending Wander tumbling to the floor. Like usual, he just bounced right back up, completely unphased. Completely alive.

"Wander -- uh -- " Hater looked frantically for the remote and spotted it near Wander's foot. When Wander's gaze began to shift in that direction, he yelled, "What are you doing here?!"

"Well, I was just crawlin' through your vents to visit Moose and Tim and congratulate them on their hookin' up and saw ya sittin' here all by your lonesome!" Wander helpfully pointed at the vent cover hanging by one screw. "You looked kinda upset, so I thought I'd drop by and see if there's anything I could do t' help!"

"I'm fine!"

Wander settled on the arm of Hater's chair like a pet cat, knees pulled up and hands braced on the armrest between them. "Didja watch a sad movie? One time, I saw this video of a kitten stuck in a drain pipe and the poor little thing was just mewlin' its tiny kitten heart out." His eyes went misty at the memory before his attention was caught by the screen. "Oh! It's us! When's this from?" Hater's brain completely shut down as Wander searched for the remote, rambling about whatever. All Hater could think was a silent, screaming no, but he couldn't make himself move. He could only see Wander's death throes. "The kitten was fine, by the way. Them rescue workers got her out none the worse for wear, and she was just a-lickin' and a-purrin' like there was no tomorrow."

"That's good," he said vaguely. Wander popped back onto his perch and hit the play button. "No! Get out! That's not for you!" Hater threw himself at the tiny nomad, who let out a squeak as they both fell over. The remote clattered to the floor as the video began to play.

Wander wriggled his way free and hopped up onto Hater's back, arms noodling around for a hug. "Don't be silly, Hater! I'm clearly in the video, it ain't.... nothin'.... I've not seen...." His voice trailed off, only for him to finally mutter "I don't remember this" when the Hater in the video said his goodbyes to Wander.

Wander's hug went slack as Hater sat up, and he slipped lifelessly -- loosely, _not_ lifelessly -- from his back to a wide-eyed puddle on the floor. Hater grabbed the remote and stopped the video, bringing it back to the file list. He didn't know how much Wander had seen, hadn't been able to bring himself to look, but it had clearly been too much. And now all the file icons, their blacks and reds and, more noticeably, oranges, made a lot more sense.

"What," Wander said, voice tiny and unsure. His gaze shifted from the files to Lord Hater, and held such a look of confusion that Hater felt his shriveled little heart sink.

"It's nothing," he muttered, letting his eyes drop.

"It ain't nothing, Hatey!" Wander said, voice bouncing up and down with frantic, squeaky inflection. "I just. I just -- I don't even know. Are these all --"

Hater heard the click of the remote and jumped up to snatch it from Wander. He'd been sure he'd put it on the table, away from him, but Wander was sneaky that way. "It's not me!" he yelled, then immediately regretted it as Wander flinched away. "I mean. Grop. It's uh, other universes."

"And you, in all of 'em, you do that?" Wander had relaxed again, and Hater hated how easily he let his guard down. He'd just seen himself murdered, for Grop's sake! But as soon as Hater had started to explain, Wander eagerly listened.

"I guess. I mean, yeah, that's what Peeper's nerd rhythm thing was looking for. I only saw that one, though," Hater said quickly.

Wander was silent for a long moment, and Hater let him have that. Even Hater hadn't yet processed how, exactly, he'd felt about what he saw, and he wasn't the one who'd been killed.

Wander moved closer to the screen and placed his hands on it, fingers trailing down the file names. Hater could see him mouthing silently to himself, counting.

"Did you like it?" Wander asked, finally.

"What?"

"The video." Wander swallowed then turned around, a wobbly smile on his face. "I mean, gosh, there are a lot of them."

"No! I mean. I don't know." Hater sank heavily into his seat. What was it about Wander that made him just blurt out whatever came into his head. Usually, it was just garbled anger, but it was like Hater could never keep a secret around the little weirdo.

Wander came over and climbed up beside Hater, smile stronger now. "It's okay if you did. I think. I mean, you're a intergalactic villain. Bein' evil's kinda your thing, and it's not something you can change in a day. I accept that." He hugged Hater, and Hater couldn't muster the outrage to push him away. "But wow, that's an awful lotta videos," he repeated more to himself. "All different universes, yeah?"

"Yeah." They fell into a silence about as comfortable as fiberglass, until Hater said, "Listen, Wander. This was just a bit of fantasy for me. I mean, you're still my nemesis, and I'm still gonna destroy you, but -- I won't do it like that."

"Oh. Okay," Wander said vaguely, accepting a promise Hater never expected to have to make. "I don't mean to be rude, but I gotta go.... Find Moose 'n' Tim.... To congratulate them. Y'know." Wander fell off Hater's chair, then made his way back to the vent.

Hater watched as Wander scrambled gracelessly trying to get back up into it. Soon enough Hater got tired of seeing him fail and picked him up easily so he could reach the vent opening. "Bye," he muttered. Wander didn't echo the sentiment or thank him before he was gone.

Hater stared at the vent, waiting. He wasn't sure what for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please turn your attention to the addition of death fetish in the tag list. this is where it gets kinda weird. feedback is lovely.

"So I was thinking," Wander began, earning a shriek and an arm to the chest that knocked him and Captain Tim from the bed. Wander coughed and crawled back up to sit next to Hater, who was looking around blearily, retainer half-off, drool cold and crusty down the side of his face. "Anyway, I was thinkin' maybe you had something there with those universes."

"Huh?" Hater asked. "Wander?! What are you doing here? Captain Tim, sic him!" Captain Tim hopped up and licked Wander, who giggled before quickly wiping the acidic slime off onto Hater's blanket. "Bad Tim-Tim, no! I said sic, not lick!"

"Aw, Captain Tim! You're such a sweetie," Wander said as Tim bounded over to lick Hater instead and gnaw at his arm. "Anyway, Hatey," he tried again. "Maybe you're onto something in those other universes."

Hater stopped scritching Tim to squint at Wander, half-asleep brain still trying to catch up. "Other... those videos? Wander, forget about them. I haven't watched any more."

"I did."

Hater couldn't think of what to say to that, so settled on a long, drawn out, "Whaaaaaa?"

Wander crawled closer, and Hater held Captain Tim to his chest like a security blanket. This was creepy. Wander had no right being so creepy. His eyes were just so big and bright in the dim glow that permeated the room, though, and his smile had far too many teeth exposed, like it was stapled on. "I watched those videos. Not all of 'em, mind ya, but enough. And, well. You said it was a, uh, fantasy for ya, right? Do you actually think those things? Do ya feel the urge to do 'em? Does it get you all het up?"

"Uh, duh. I'm evil, remember?"

Wander hummed thoughtfully and disengaged one of Hater's hands from Tim to bring it up to himself. He pressed his body against Hater's open palm, let Hater's long fingers naturally curl around his shoulders and sides. He was so, so tiny. He fit easily into Hater's hand. Hater could even feel the flutter of his little rabbit heart and instinctively squeezed a bit. Wander's breath hitched.

"There are a lotta universes where you... off me, and maybe -- maybe that's the way it's s'posed to be? I mean, gotta be a reason it happens so often, right?"

"Right. No, wait." Hater yanked his hand back and Wander fell forward, hat falling askew. He waited until Wander had righted himself to continue. "What are you saying, Wander?"

"I'm sayin' if you wanna k-kill me, maybe you oughta?"

"What the hell --" Wander gasped and covered his mouth. "Ugh. Fine. What the heck's gotten into you? I'm not going to just kill you."

"You wanna torture me, first? I saw that in a few a them videos. We could go to the torture room 'n'--"

"No! Grop. Shut up, will you?"

Wander nodded, and Hater breathed a sigh of relief. He really needed a moment to process this, and Wander's constant yammering made that all but impossible.

"Why do you think I should kill you?" he tried.

"I just want you to be happy, Hatey."

"I would have been happy being number one on the leaderboard, but somebody decided to get in the way. So, uh, no, I don't think that's why. Try again."

Wander looked slightly taken aback by how quickly Hater had called him on that, but didn't try to push the issue. He took a deep, shuddery breath, and Hater caught his own in anticipation.

Then Wander began to cry. His eyes filled with big, blobby tears that wobbled at the edges before the tension broke and they rolled down his cheeks to spatter on his knees and the bed. He wasn't looking at Hater, and his lips trembled as he took several shaky breaths. They sounded like the hardest thing in the world to do to Hater, like Wander still wasn't actually getting air, like he was drowning.

Wander rubbed at the tears with clenched fists and bubbled his way through an explanation that Hater lost the thread of the instant Wander started talking. His twangy accent, annoying but understandable most days, had quickly descended into a whole new language so far as Hater could tell.

"I just see things, y'know, like the warp 'n' the weft 'n' the weave, 'n' I try ta keep 'em as untangled as possi' but I ne'er quite know if I'm doin' right by the universe. Y'know if ya help a person it ripples righ' through 'n' straightens this stuff out, same's hurtin' a person but it jus' tangles, 'n' the cosmos fixes itself even'ual if'n there's too mucha strain on it. N' maybe I bin doin' that 'n' doin' wrong so it gave me you t' fix it 'n' get ridda me. I know you was tied up tigh' wi' me from the mo' I saw ya, but I coulda been readin' it awry."

Wander dissolved into more tears and wordless hiccoughs and gulping air, and Hater stared at him before he realized he'd have to deal with this. He couldn't just have Wander crying on his bed all night. That sounded awful even in his head, even without really getting why he was crying. What made Wander feel better, though?

Awkwardly, Hater brought him in for a hug. His arms easily enveloped Wander's entire body, leaving just his hat and shoes exposed. "It's okay, uh, buddy. I won't hurt you." He patted Wander's head stiffly.

Wander wriggled like a moody cat until Hater let him go. He dragged his arm across his eyes and shook his head. Damp fur stuck up at odd angles. "No, uh. I'm gonna go. We'll try again later, okay? When you're more in the mood."

Wander kissed Captain Tim on the head, then, after a moment's hesitation, gave Hater a quick peck too. When Hater made no move to attack for such an impunity, Wander frowned. He hopped off the bed and let himself out of the room. Hater needed better locks. Or competent guards. Or something.

He laid back and stared at the blackness of his ceiling and thought about how he could have crumpled Wander up like paper until Peepers came in to get him up for the day.

* * *

Hater caught Wander while Sylvia was distracted by the hordes of Watchdogs. "Ahah! I got you!"

Wander propped his arms up on Hater's hand and cupped his cheeks. "Now that ya got me, what're ya gonna do with me?" he asked with a moony smile.

Before Hater could explain in loud, dramatic detail, Peepers crashed into him, and Wander was yanked from his grip. Sylvia dropped Wander onto her back, and they left Hater to the wreckage of his invasion.

* * *

"Ahah! I got you -- again!" Hater said, shaking Wander for good measure.

"Yep!" he agreed as he tried to keep his hat on. His eyes were wide and shiny, with dark shadows under them. But, just like before, he was plucked away before Hater could do anything.

* * *

"Uh. I guess... I got you," Hater said yet again to the furry annoyance in his hand. This was getting weird. He looked around for Sylvia.

"Sylvia's napping back on Kleton VI," Wander explained almost apologetically. "She's probably not gonna show up."

"You came here by yourself?" Hater glared suspiciously at Wander. There was definitely something wrong here. He dropped Wander, who bounced a little when he hit the ground. He stood up and latched onto Hater.

"I sure did, pal! Just you 'n' me, like one of them videos. Double oh 35AFxD or E, I think."

The videos. Hater didn't need a reminder of those. He shoved Wander off of him. "No, just you. Peepers! This planet's conquered, I'm going back to the ship!" He teleported away in a crack of green lightning before anyone could object.

* * *

"Hiya, Hater!"

Hater turned slowly, slowly toward the little orange freak. Sylvia was with him, which he took to be a good sign. Wander wouldn't do anything weird with her around.

Right?

"Go away, Wander! I'm busy!"

"Ch, yeah. Conquering planets," Sylvia said, cracking her knuckles in preparation of a Watchdog beatdown. Several Watchdogs cringed away reflexively. "And we're here to stop ya, right, buddy?"

Wander lagged a second in his response, just long enough to catch Hater's eye. "Right..." he said.

"Sir," Peepers said, already on his knees. "Please don't go after them. We're so close..."

"I won't."

"What," everyone said flatly.

"I said I won't! Grop, are you all deaf?" Hater turned away from Wander and stormed off toward the palace. "C'mon, Peepers, don't we have a king to overthrow or something?"

"Oh, uh. Right away, sir! Hahah!" Peepers leaped joyously into the air, then all but danced his way to the castle to overthrow the monarchy, Hater trailing angrily behind him.

Wander's voice, quieter than ever, drifted faintly toward them. "Hater," he said. Hater didn't look back. He wasn't stupid. If he went after Wander, all it'd take was an 'accidental' misstep for the nomad to bite it at Hater's hands, and he refused to be some -- some tool for Wander's suicide. Oh, Glorn. He'd just have to avoid Wander forever. No attacking, no chasing. Nothing.

Hater wanted to throttle Wander for making him feel this way. 

* * *

"Hatey!" Wander sing-songed from a booth at the diner, catching Hater's and the handful of Watchdogs who surrounded him's attention. "Wanna share a milkshake, _buddy_?"

The way he annunciated 'buddy' was enough for lightning to crackle around Lord Hater's fingers. When Hater risked a glance, Wander was looking at him with a serene smile on his face. That was the smile of a dead man if ever Hater saw one, and he had been well-acquainted with that look before Wander made sure his prison was always empty. Ugh. Hater'd used to like it, too.

"And extra fries!" He yelled at the cashier before stomping to the door, leaving the Watchdogs to get the order and figure out how to pay for it.

* * *

Hater had no idea how Wander'd gotten himself tied up like that, but that was not the first thing he wanted to see stepping into the shower in the morning. Certain parts of his brain disagreed, probably those parts that also liked strapping Wander to racks. Hater wasn't going to even think about what that meant as he grabbed his toiletries and backed out of the bathroom.

"It's like video 4168FGJP!" Wander said cheerfully, like that would get Hater to come within ten feet of him. "That's the one where you sliced me gullet to groin and --"

"Lalala! I can't hear you!" Hater let the door slide shut between them. He had other bathrooms he could use.

"Hater, if you ain't gonna do it, could you at least untie me? I'm kinda stuck," Wander called out, voice muffled by the metal safely between them.

Hater lingered at the door, fighting with himself if he should free Wander or not. If he didn't, he'd have to deal with him eventually. At a repeat of his name, Hater yelled, "I'll send a Watchdog in!" and stormed off.

He forgot the Watchdog, but Wander was gone the next time he went in there. He'd left behind fur, rope, and a few, small smears of dried blood. Hater scrubbed them away.

* * *

"1683DFYC," Wander whispered in Hater's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. His clock read three in the morning. This close and that quiet, the numbers and letters sounded far more sultry than they had any right to. "You got t' know me in the biblical sense, 'n' it was the nicest thing ever --" Hater choked on air at the notion, but Wander continued. "It was even nicer when ya just wrapped your hand 'round my neck and -- _snap_. And hey, we're already in a bed."

Tiny, evil hands found their way under Hater's nightclothes and he swung around and hit Wander right over the side of the bed.

Wander climbed back up, undeterred, and in the faint glow Hater could make out a small trickle of blood on the side of his mouth. Hater didn't understand how _now_ he could hit Wander all he wanted, when before it would take a miracle to even get close. He was still working from that position, but things had changed, and now he'd made Wander _bleed_. Entirely by accident. Hater hated the idea that the only way to off Wander was by his permission.

Wander stared at him thoughtfully, as though dissecting his reaction. Hater stared at the blood. It looked black in the glow of the alarm clock, with an alien shimmer to it. He couldn't look away.

Wander was saying something. "That one sound good?"

"No!"

Hater took Captain Tim and slunk into one of the smooching rooms before crashing amidst a pile of heart-shaped, purple pillows.

* * *

"1684FYZ6. Torture room! You've always wanted to torture me. Just thinka cuttin' me up real nice 'n' slow. And I'm a screamer, I found out. Think of your megamix!"

"It's being refurbished! I've taken up sewing instead!"

* * *

"84638GDRT. Captain Tim --"

"No! No. No. Oh my grop, _no_."

* * *

"Sand snapper --"

"Trash compactor --"

"A big spike right through my --"

"Sous-vide --"

"Vivisection --"

"A box -- "

* * *

"Hater," Wander whispered, furry body tickling against Hater's spine where he'd pressed himself. Hater turned his head from his game slowly, like the victim in a horror movie about to see the killer. They stared at each other. Wander's fur was a dull, flat orange, and his fingers twisted nervously in front of him. "If ya like beatin' me up so much in your little game, wouldn't ya like to try it in real life? I'll even make lotsa noise for ya. Promise. I ain't one to suffer in silence. Or, well, I don't know if it'd be sufferin' at this point makin' me moan." He muffled a small, embarrassed laugh. "Just rewatchin' those videos, replayin' them in my head, thinkin' what it musta been like... I'm kinda really lookin' forward to it. If you don't get me, the anticipation might."

That bit of information swam through Hater's head like a fish in molasses. Hater flushed green.  Wander just had to put the image of him _moaning_ as he was tortured into his head. Writhing as Hater twisted his noodly arms or burned him, but not in pain. It wasn't the first time Hater had thought about how he'd kill Wander (slowly, painfully, relishing it), except this was the first time he thought about _Wander_ enjoying it. That was... something. He wasn't sure what.

The memory of the electrocution came unbidden.

This was too much -- this was Wander, wanting to die. Hater couldn't handle much more. Wander touched his arm as though to remind him he was there, waiting patiently for the inevitable. For Hater to kill him.

Hater threw the controller away from them both, very careful about not touching Wander in any shape form or fashion. He ran for the door. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"But you're the one leaving!" Wander called after him.

"AAAAAAHHHH!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wander is v direct, Hater is not, and I don't think this needs any new warnings, except Wander's degrading accent is going to do me in.

A hand touched Hater's arm. He screamed.

"Sir?" Peepers asked as Hater peeled himself off of the back of his chair, trying to play it off like nothing had happened. "What's gotten into you? Is this another one of your moods?"

"No!" Hater said quickly. "It's nothing. I just -- what did you want?"

Peepers sighed at Hater's response. "I sent the men ahead to Vemos Beta, remember? To conquer it, since it's barely populated. Not worth the show, especially as you don't really seem... into it." Hater nodded. He totally didn't remember that, but if Peepers said that happened, it probably happened. "Well, it turns out Wander was there."

"Was Sylvia there, too?"

"No, that's the great part. According to Wander, she's not even in the galaxy. She's visiting her grandmother, who I would love to meet, because she doesn't like Wander. Leaving him completely at our mercy, so we can get this over and done with." Peepers chuckled evilly, rubbing his hands together. "He's in the torture room now."

"Oh no."

"I know, right -- wait, what? What do you mean, 'oh no'?"

Hater sighed. He couldn't do this alone. His performance was slipping. He was on edge. Some Watchdog named Bestley had taken the high score on his Wander Combat Simulator and Captain Tim had been hiding half-melted toys in his bed trying to make him feel better. Poor Tim wasn't handling Hater's stress well at all and barely ate his Soylent Kibble. He was loathe to admit it, but he needed Peepers's help.

Hater sank into the chair and patted his knee. With a justifiably confused expression and healthy amount of wariness, Peepers crawled up to sit on his lap. Hater placed his hand on Peepers's back. He ignored the tension there and flush on his eyeball.

"I have to tell you something, C Peeps. About Wander," he said gravely, then proceeded to fill Peepers in on what had been happening since The Viewing, as he'd come to think of that terrible, pivotal incident.

Peepers was silent throughout, but as soon as Hater finished, he sputtered to life. "Sir, that's crazy! This is _Wander_ we're talking about here. He's suicidally stupid, not stupidly suicidal."

"Don't believe me?" Hater said, standing abruptly. Peepers fell to the ground and cringed away from his looming form. Instead of bringing down lighting and terror, though, Hater pointed in the general direction of the torture room. "He's in the torture room, right? We're gonna sneak you in so you can see him acting weird. He won't do it around others, always catching me by myself to whisper sexxxx... Heeee's like that gas-lighting little frog. The singing, dancing one," he ended, quickly changing the subject.

"I hate that frog so much," Peepers muttered, not commenting on the clear change from 'sexy' to 'he'. He couldn't even feign surprise that Hater's relationship with Wander was.... complicated.

"I know, right? Ugh. But Wander!"

Peepers took a deep breath to keep from rubbing his eyelid. A tension headache was building. "Okay, sir. So we sneak me in. But how? There's only one entrance. There aren't any cameras in there, which I tried to tell you was a--" Lightning began to crackle. "And besides! The vent's above the lava pit. It's impossible."

Hater rubbed his chin thoughtfully, energy dying away. Those were good points. This called for drastic measures. He hiked up his robe. "Get in my rib cage."

Peepers stared. "You can't be serious."

"Timtim's in here all the time. It's not that weird."

"It really, really is." Hater's lower lip trembling, until Peepers had to capitulate. "Fine! Grop. If this fixes whatever's going on with you so we can get back to conquering. I hate when you get like this. Sir," he added belatedly as he took off his helmet to fit.

* * *

With the comforting weight of Peepers begrudgingly tucked up into his rib cage, Hater braced himself for Wander. He put on his best scowl as the door slid open and strode confidently into the room.

"Wander."

"Hater," Wander purred. "Here to destroy me?"

Peepers glared at the inside of Hater's robe, eyelid turned down into a frown. That did sound a little weird, but Wander was always a bit too into Lord Hater for someone constantly on the villain's shit list. He wasn't going to pass any judgement yet.

"Don't rush me! I'll do it when I'm ready. You're not the boss of me."

Peepers rolled his eye. Hater sounded like a petulant child.

"I'm glad you seem okay with it now," Wander said as Hater moved toward the display rack. "I want ya to have fun, too, after all. So how you gonna do it?"

Hater shuffled around, hands meandering over the various torture instruments to Wander's increasing excitement.

Peepers couldn't actually believe what he was hearing. Out of Wander of all people. He knew from Hater's failed on-air execution and failed wedding-day execution and a dozen other failed, themed executions that Wander was fine playing that he'd like to be executed, but this wasn't just rolling with it for fun. This was graphic by his standards.

"Oh, gosh, that'd be fun! You could just tear right through me -- no? Even better, a planer! Peel me like an _orange_."

Peepers straightened inside Hater's rib cage, mindful of his tiny heart. "Sir! He's messing with you," he hissed. "Call his bluff."

"It's not a bluff, Peepers," Hater said without moving his mouth, teeth gritted tight, eyes focused intently on a Force glove.

"It is. He's trying to get to you. He had to up the ante. Call. Him. On. His. Bluff!"

Hater let out a gust of air. "Okay. None of these. Nice and basic."

"A cleaver!" Wander squealed as Hater approached him. "You're so clever, Hatey! Heheh, get it?"

"Get -- get your hand back in the cuff! How do you -- never mind. I'm going to make this slow and painful. You'll be begging by the end of this," Hater said, putting on a growl Peepers could feel he didn't really have his heart in.

"I'm beggin' _now_ ," Wander whined. "C'mon, Hater. Don't tease me. Dress me like a deer."

Peepers peeked out from the dip of Hater's cowl, hidden partially by his lower jaw. Wander had to be faking, right? This was some crazy new plan to turn Hater good.

But here he was, eyes big and bright, lower lip pulled between his teeth. Chest fluttering as he watched Hater's hands intently. His fingers were flexing in clear anticipation. Or agitation, which might be the same thing for Wander. His fur was spiked up instead of its usual soft lay and had a sort of stiff look to it, like he was an old, faded towel that had been washed wrong one too many times.

Hater held the knife like a wand as he poked at Wander. Wander squeaked, then giggled, and the illusion broke. He was young, stupid, happy, again, and just more in need of a bath than usual. Some dark blue blood welled on his fur, droplets scattering in a line to the black ground. Hater stared at it. Peepers stared at it. Wander watched Hater with his eyes half-lidded.

Almost reverently, Hater touched the injury and smeared the blood between his fingers. It had a green tint thanks to the yellow of his gloves. This was the first time he'd hurt Wander. Legitimately. Intentionally. The first time seeing his blood so clearly. He looked at it like he'd just managed to touch a star.

Something brushed Peepers's side, and he glanced down. Hater's heart was going a mile a minute, and his bones felt uncomfortably warm. Moist, even.

A hesitant "Hater?" broke the trance. Wander perked up when Hater's attention turned back to him.

Wander's hand wrapped around Hater's holding the knife, and he angled it so it was pressed to his chest. It was big enough that just laying against him it ran from neck to belly. "Slow 'n' painful, yeah?" he reminded Hater. "Then I'm outta your hair forever."

"Y-yeah," Hater agreed. Wander helped him put some pressure on the blade, letting out a pleased little moan as it bit into his collarbone. Peepers felt like he was in a staticky sauna, and was beginning to worry all this stimulation might give Hater a heart attack. And electrocute Peepers. He'd already been singed by a few wayward sparks jumping bone to bone.

Regardless of what his body was suggesting, Hater looked horrified. This was too much. He had to get out.

"Brrring. Brrrrring -- oh! Look at that. I'm getting a call," Hater said suddenly, unconvincingly. He quickly pulled the knife away and held his other hand to his ear. "Oh, you need me... on the, on the bridge? Okay. Bye."

He began to back out of the room. "Peepers is calling -- can't do anything without me -- minions -- you know how it is -- bye!" He flung the knife down with a clatter and ran away.

* * *

Hater shook Peepers out several corners later, and Peepers was glad to be free. He'd sometimes thought entirely inappropriate for his station thoughts about Hater's bones, but this made him want a cold shower for an entirely different reason.

"See?"

Peepers sat up and tried to fix his helmet, before remembering they'd had to leave it. "Okay. Either he's in it for the long game, or that wasn't a bluff," he allowed.

"He wants me to kill him, Peepers! What do I do?"

"Well. Kill him, I suppose. _You_ want to, right?" Peepers asked, leading Hater back into the conference room they'd been in before so he could get his helmet. With it on, he felt taller already.

"What?"

Peepers turned to regard Hater, who sank into a chair. "Do you want to kill Wander? I know it's weird that _he_ wants you to, but we can't say we haven't been trying to do just that for ages. And you seemed kind of into it, to put it mildly."

"You saw the video! It was terrible. Also, what. I was just nervous. I wasn't like _into it_ into it."

"I was in your chest cavity, sir. I know what I saw." Peepers squinted at the memory and shuddered. "And felt. It was an experience I never want to repeat."

Hater slapped his own face with a hand and dragged it down as though he could pull the memory from his eyeballs. Peepers gave him the moment he needed to collect himself.

Hater couldn't deny he'd thought about killing Wander at enough inopportune moments that certain connections had been made. The power high of execution, especially of one's greatest foe, was potent, even in his imagination. Before The Viewing, he'd lingered over scenes of Wander's death like a man exploring a lover's body. Which he'd totally had experience in. Lots of experience. With girls, even.

"It's okay, sir. You're evil. It's expected for you to get a bit of a thrill from torturing and murdering your.... Wander." Peepers put a hand on Hater's upper arm, patting him comfortingly.

Hater glared at the darkened monitor across the conference room. "He said something like that, too. And you know what? I'm starting to think that's not a good thing."

"Well, no. It's definitely bad." Hater turned his glare on Peepers. Peepers didn't back down. "We're _in_ this to be bad, sir. We're _bad people_. Don't start reconsidering just because Wander's gone off the deep end. How about we kill him quick and quiet? I'll send some of the boys to the torture room. It won't be a problem anymore." He'd offered this before, and doubted Hater's answer would be any different this time, but one could hope.

Hater mulled on that. It felt wrong. Like that'd be something that would haunt him for the rest of his life, denying himself the pleasure of killing Wander personally. Intimately. Not that it'd be any pleasure to do it like this, with him so worn down and weirder acting than normal. He'd gone sour so, so quickly. Actually, maybe this _was_ a ruse. Wander was the biggest faker Hater knew after all. Nobody just woke up one day and decide they needed to die. People didn't work like that. He... he thought. He felt was a reasonable assumption. He just hadn't pushed hard enough.

"No, Peeps. I'm going to test something out."

With a worried look in his eye, Peepers swallowed down any objections he wanted to voice and instead nodded. "Good luck, sir."

* * *

Hater returned to the torture room to find Wander still there. He was showing a pair of Watchdogs he must have pulled in from their rounds a card game. And he wasn't in his rack. Of course.

"Out, out!" Hater ordered, clapping his hands like he was chasing space raccoons out of the trash compactor. When Wander started to leave with the Watchdogs, he caught him by the scruff. "Not you."

"Oh, we tryin' this again? Your.... phone won't be interruptin'?" Wander asked as he was dropped to the ground.

"Get in the rack," Hater ordered instead of answering. "I don't want you squirming around."

When Wander was secure in the rack, or at least looked it enough for Hater, Hater examined him for a long while. Long enough that his annoying, toothy grin fell away and he gnawed on his lip almost nervously.

Wander looked a little better than only minutes ago, maybe from having fun with the Watchdogs. He seemed really dependent on things like that, the emotional high junkie that he was, but he still looked a bit ashy around the edges. Hater licked his thumb and wiped at a smudge on Wander's cheek, which got him a confused giggle.

"Don't giggle. I'm thinking about killing you."

"Sure ya don't mean thinkin' 'bout _cleanin'_ me like a mama cat?" Wander smothered another laugh. With his hand.

Hater caught it by the wrist and shoved it back into the shackle, then braced his hands on either side of Wander's head. Instead of fear at Hater's imposing position, Wander's smolder was back. It was weird to think he even had that sort of expression, though it looked nicer on his stupid fluffy face than it had any right to. Especially directed at him. Hater took a deep breath. Peepers was right about Wander bluffing, but they'd just approached it wrong. They had to make him show his hand first.

"How do you want me to do it?"

Without a beat, Wander said, "Whatever way makes ya happy. I ain't picky."

"Really? _Really_ really? Because this is a one-time deal. For you." Hater put on a grin like when he'd found Wander stuck in that black hole and leaned in even closer, almost touching faces. "Let's make it special."

"Oh. Okay! Hm..." Wander mulled over his options, tongue poking out in genuine concentration, unperturbed by Hater's nearness. "We-ell, there were a few I liked."

Hater cheered internally at getting Wander to pick, before realizing this wasn't the result he wanted. Grop, how far would he have to go before Wander backed down? Would he actually have to kill him? "Fine. So long as they're not too weird."

"I don't think so. Least not for you. You came up with 'em, after all."

"I've done a lot of things too weird for me," Hater muttered.

Wander laughed. "Case in point, huh? Anywho, the ones I liked were -- do you wanna pull 'em up or somethin'?"

"No. Grop, no. Just the bare bones. No details."

"We can do it 'bare bones' if ya want," Wander said with a wink.

Hater's voice caught in his throat at the double entendre. He'd kept chalking Wander's words up to his usual inane flirting, but, being that direct, he could be genuine. "Do... do you want me to have sex with you? Is this what this is about?"

"If it gets me killed, yes. There were a few like that -- some were real sweet." As Wander spoke, he rubbed his neck as though reliving that moment he'd told Hater about. Knowing Wander biblically. "And not t' toot my own horn or nuthin', but I made sure you liked it. A lot."

Hater sputtered at the gall, at the insinuation. He would never!

"I would never!" he said, just so Wander knew, too.

"You never'd pretty often. One... three... six times?" Wander counted off, waggling his eyebrows. "At least what was recorded by your program."

Hater leaned against a rack of equipment. He thought he had it, what Wander was trying to do. Though the idea that Wander thought about that sort of thing, too, then decided to go about it _this_ way....

Now it was time to lay the cards on the table, let Wander know the jig was up.

"You're just faking this whole death fetish thing to get me to have sex with you."

Wander stared, eyes wide, mouth finally silent. Hater knew it! And he'd figure it out all by himself. Except for that part with Peepers, but he wasn't here now so this was all Hater's victory.

Then Wander started to laugh. Hater's confidence in his deduction crumbled like so much sand.

"You're half-right," he said once he got himself under control. "I am fakin' something, but it ain't that... what'd ya call it, death fetish? I like the sound of that. Death fetish," he repeated more quietly to himself, holding the idea like it was some little treasure he'd been given.

Sensing that he was losing Wander's attention (which, what? When had Hater ever _not_ been in his lazer-sights), Hater cleared his throat. He couldn't even care that Wander had yet again released himself from the rack. The little nomad was clearly doing it without conscious thought.

"Uh.... What are you faking, then?"

Wander hopped down from the rack, and his hands curled into the ruffle of fur at his chest nervously. "I don't want ya t' think it's off the table, of course," he said, as though whatever he was about to admit would be the deal breaker and not literally everything else thusfar. "'Cause I don't hate it, and I do have plenty of experience, but I mighta been fibbin' a bit about wantin' sex. I don't really like sex. But I do like _you_ ," he added quickly. "And I know _you_ like it, and think about it, and write about it in your diary an awful lot."

"Excuse me?"

Wander ignored him, rambling on, accent getting a little more pronounced, eyes getting wider in excitement. "Oh, and I do love seein' ya happy, Hatey. And knowin' I was th' one to be doin' that 'fore ya kill me...." He pressed his hands to his cheeks and bit his tongue on a happy squeal. "It could be a happy endin' for us both." Wander made sure to catch Hater's eye, smile beatific, before he got to the point. "So whaddya say? Wanna do me then do me in?"


End file.
